Half of My Heart
by Ka-chan93
Summary: When Jane Watson transferred universities, she never expected to have a girl like Sherlock Holmes for a roommate. How will their relationship progress, and what happens when Jane gets recruited? Genderswap fic
1. Chapter 1

I had always been a bit boring, though I never saw it that way. I saw myself as normal-average, even. I was quite short for my age, and my long hair had always been too light and dull for my liking. But while I was 'average', I was quite sharp. I was no genius (by any standard) but I was smart enough to pursue a career in the medical field. I was studying to become a doctor.

So, that's why I was here, standing outside of room 221 in the B sector of the dorms for the University. A student government member had pointed out that they'd had a great amount of trouble finding a particular student a roommate, so I had agreed. I could get along with most people.

I lifted my hand to knock, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a voice called from within. "It's unlocked."

Trying to situate myself, I opened the door to see a young woman standing on a chair as she tried to get a book from the top shelf of the bookcase. She had moderately short, curly, black hair, and a long angular face. She was quite tall (it made me wonder why she was standing on a chair to reach the top shelf), which was accentuated by her purple button-up and black, slim-fitting formal trousers.

When I looked at her face, I noticed that her cheek bones were very defined, and her lips were quite noticeable and unique. I felt myself flush slightly at the thought.

"Hello. I'm Jane Watson. What's your-"

"Do you like the violin?" The woman asked, cutting me off.

"Excuse me?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking," she said, plopping back onto the floor, book in hand. "Sometimes I don't talk for days on. Would that bother you?"

I blinked. "No, I don't reckon so."

"Any bad habits on your end?"

I thought for a moment. "I can be quite lazy at times, and I have a general dislike of rows and confrontations-as well as loud noises. I'm sure there's others, but these are the ones I can think of at present."

The woman smiled, and it reminded me of the Cheshire Cat. "Good." She walked past me and into the hallway, leaving me confused. A moment later, she popped her head back in the door. "The name's Sherlock Holmes."


	2. Chapter 2

I spent my time sitting around in the common room in the dorm, watching the telly as I waited for Sherlock to return before I tried to find _my_ room. I wasn't going to barge into Sherlock's room in case there was something that she didn't want me to see.

Finally, about two hours later, Sherlock returned, phone in hand. "Hello," she said as she passed me.

"Um, I'm sorry, but..." I paused as Sherlock turned and looked up at me. "Um...which room is mine?"

"The one on the left," she said simply before disappearing into her own room. Satisfied, I opened the door to my bedroom.

It was quite simple and dull, and I found myself somewhat glad that I had things to bring in, because I'd go mad if my room were this barren all the time.

I grabbed my bags from the common area and dragged them into my room, proceeding to put things away. I was in the middle of putting some clothes in my closet when Sherlock opened the bedroom door and stuck her head inside.

"Are you coming?"

I looked at her, confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Supper."

I looked at my watch, and was surprised to see that it was getting close to five o'clock. I stood and brushed off my skirt before nodding and following Sherlock.

"Do you mind if I sit with you? I don't know anyone else," I asked Sherlock tentatively, hoping that she would say yes. I didn't really want to sit alone on my first day.

Sherlock glanced down at me (I was amazed at our high differences) and nodded, leading me towards an empty table in a corner of the dining hall. I waited for her to make her way towards the line, but when she sat down instead, pulling out a book, I decided to go by myself.

When I got back, Sherlock was switching between looking around the dining hall, reading her book, and scribbling things in her book. I figured that she was probably taking notes; studying.

I ate quietly, not quite sure how to strike up a conversation. I was about to take a bite of my pasta when Sherlock spoke.

"Can I use your phone?"

I looked up, a little shocked from the random question. "What about yours?"

"I left it up in my room."

Deciding that it was wise not to question her, I fished the phone out of my jacket pocket and handed it to her, our fingers brushing. She quickly typed something before handing it back to me with a small smile.

"Thanks."

I nodded, slipping my phone back into my pocket. "So...what are you stud-"

She cut me off again. "Can you move over? You're in my line of sight."

I looked behind me, and noticed that from where Sherlock was sitting, she had a clear view of the entire dining hall. Sighing, I pushed my chair to the side a bit and saw Sherlock look back down at her book, so I took it that she was satisfied.

I glanced at my phone and decided to retire to my room for the evening. I wanted to finish unpacking before going to bed early. I had classes in the morning.

"Well, I'm heading back up," I said as I stood. "You coming?"

"No," Sherlock said simply, her gaze never leaving her book. Deciding not to question her further, I pushed in my chair and disposed of my garbage before returning to my quarters.

I was unpacked by eight o'clock, so I decided to sit and read a book on the sofa. It was close to nine before Sherlock returned. She gave me a small glance before heading straight into her room.

I yawned, and headed back to my own room, choosing a pair of pyjamas. I decided on a white t-shirt and a pair of black pyjama pants with kittens all over them. They'd been a present from my brother.

I climbed into bed, and somehow, I managed to fall asleep to the violin music coming from the next room.

It's never very pleasant to transfer to another university. I'd transferred here because Harry was too close-always looking over my shoulder. Harry wouldn't accept anything less than excellence, and I had had enough. I was doing this for me, not for her.

It took some time for me to find my classes, but over the first few weeks, I quickly familiarized myself with the science building.

Sherlock and I weren't particularly close, but we got along. We always sat together in the dining hall, and we'd often sit in the common room together, Sherlock usually reading something while I watched telly.

Then one day, there was a shift in our relationship. I was walking towards my biology class when I saw that I'd gotten a text a few minutes back. I checked it.

_History building. Come quickly, if convenient. SH_

I grimaced. I didn't really have time. I had class in-

My phone beeped, and I had another message.

_If inconvenient, come anyway. SH_

Shaking my head, I started trying to find Sherlock. I wasn't very familiar with the history building, which made it difficult to find her. When I did find her, though, she was sitting in a computer lab, typing away. She didn't even look up when I entered.

"What do you-"

"I need to use your phone."

I stared at Sherlock in disbelief. "You called me all the way here-causing me to miss my biology class-just so that you could use my phone?" I asked, my voice slow and steady. 

"Yes."

I was about to give her a piece of my mind, but cut me off as I opened my mouth.

"Don't pretend that you wanted to go. I saw how you shuffled your feet around this morning, taking as much time as you could before you had to leave. You were stalling, trying to hold off the inevitable."

Unable to argue, I handed Sherlock my phone without a word, which she grabbed without ever shifting her gaze away from the computer. She quickly typed something, pressed send, and handed the phone back.

"We should go out for dinner tonight."

I looked at Sherlock, shocked. "Huh?"

Sherlock glanced at me for a moment before turning back to the computer. "You're sick of the food from the dining hall. I've seen how you pick at your food and shove it around on your plate. You barely eat what you get-usually sticking to simple strawberry jam on toast. So, while food only slows me down, you should eat something."

And that's how Sherlock ended up treating me to dinner at a cozy little Italian restaurant. She didn't eat much, talking animatedly about some big crime that had happened several years ago involving a boy who drowned in a pool.

I smiled at her from across the table-Sherlock completely oblivious as she continued to talk about old crimes. Sitting there, I could tell that this was the start of a great friendship-the kind you only read about in books.


End file.
